


Death Comes for Mr. Winchester. (Or just, perhaps, for a really excellent slice of pie.)

by bunnymaccool



Series: Holy!Dean [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Community: deancasbigbang, Dean with powers, Holy!Dean 'verse, M/M, Wing Kink, corndogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 12:18:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnymaccool/pseuds/bunnymaccool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SEASON 6 AU - Dean was pretty used to weird shit happening to him by now. Really, after you've been used as a weapon for God, saved the world, died, come back and then been told by the Almighty himself that the future of Heaven is in your hands ... what can really surprise you anymore? Okay, so ... maybe the two massive sets of wings he's recently acquired shocked him a bit. And early morning visits from the horseman of Death can be a tad off-putting. He really didn't foresee the Gabriel lusting after Sammy issue before it smacked him in the face, either. Then of course, Crowley suddenly being able to control Death's reapers kinda sucks, as does his perpetual boner for trying to snuff Dean from existence. So yeah. Basically he's pretty screwed. Although visiting the Texas State Fair was fun. (Even if it was in 1982. And he was with Death.) But hey, the corn-dogs were freaking delicious, so ... bonus!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Comes for Mr. Winchester. (Or just, perhaps, for a really excellent slice of pie.)

**Author's Note:**

> Third year in a row with this 'verse at the [DCBB!!!](http://deancasbigbang.livejournal.com/) Still loving it! THANK YOU SO MUCH to my fabulous artist weekendship... your talent blows me away!! <3 PLEASE go tell her how awesome she is!! [HERE!!! ](http://weekendship.livejournal.com/1484.html)

  


Dean grumbled under his breath as he struggled to untangle himself from the sheets wrapped tightly around his legs. Fighting with bedding so early in the morning before coffee and bacon had never been his forte. After, honestly, way too many minutes of hazy half-asleep flailing… he growled and flicked his wrist sharply. Power surged through his veins and the _(not so innocent)_ linen vaporized into dust around him.

He surged to his feet and stomped out of the room into the hallway. The house was eerily quiet and it bugged him, but Sam and the Angel Squad ™ were off currently investigating some werewolf activity in a small town in California. When he reached the landing of the spiral staircase, he eyed its twisting metal of vicious doom for a second before shrugging. _Fuck it._

In an instant he’d transported himself down into the kitchen. _Heh. Godly powers were totally his bitch._

There was a brief second when he materialized where he could have sworn he’d heard the faintest flutter of wings, but when he spread out his senses… no angels were nearby. Dean pursed his lips. 

“Huh.”

He took his time concentrating on the fridge, trying to decide if he wanted to actually bother with fixing anything himself or attempt to use his power to pull it from somewhere else. It was still something he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of yet. (Much to Gabriel’s amusement.) The first try had resulted in a fairly disturbing explosion of ground beef across every surface of the kitchen. (It was really better not to ask.) Finally, Dean sighed and reached out to pull open the door of the fridge. The heavy tread of Bobby’s work boots gave him pause. 

“Jodi’s just finished up breakfast if you’re hankering for food.”

Dean grinned and whipped around to face the older man standing in the doorway of the cabin. 

“Oh, bless her.”

Bobby rolled his eyes and motioned for Dean to follow him. The younger man smirked before flickering out of existence, to reappear inside the kitchen of Bobby’s home. Jodi screeched and flung a spatula at his face, but Dean just cackled and froze its progress in mid-air. The sheriff glared at him before returning to plating up eggs and bacon. 

“You keep doing that and one day you’re liable to end up with a bullet lodged in a very uncomfortable place.”

Dean gave her his most winning smile before turning his attention to the table. With very little effort, he made the chairs pull themselves out and the silverware place itself delicately on the marred wood of the surface. There was a deep sigh from Bobby as he entered the room. 

“This crap’s never gonna get old for you, is it?”

The younger man shrugged his shoulders as he settled into a chair. 

“Nope.”

Bobby grunted as he plopped himself down opposite. 

“You don’t think it’s an abuse of power to mess around with furniture and dining utensils?”

Dean snorted. 

“Gotta practice somehow, you old coot, and I don’t hear you complaining when I’m helping you clean up the yard.”

The older hunter just shook his head, and the three dug into their meal in relative silence. After devouring the food and planting a smacking kiss on Jodi’s cheek in thanks, Dean meandered out the door and towards the back of the yard. There was a forgotten area of Singer Salvage that housed the skeletons of cars so rusted and degraded they couldn’t really be used for much anymore. Dean had been methodically crushing them to particles over the past month in order to clear up some space. 

Jodi had decided that some cleaning and re-organizing was in order, and she had Bobby so domesticated that he’d happily agreed. Dean used every opportunity to tell the man how whipped he was, but in truth… it was really nice to see the guy so happy and content. 

When he reached the section that had been cleaned up the previous day, Dean settled into a wide stance and dug his toes into the ground. The power from the earth that surrounded him pulsed up through his legs and he grinned. Slowly and methodically he pulled one old wreckage after the other before him, and crunched, squished and compressed them until there was nothing left but particles dancing in the sunlight. 

After about an hour, there was a flutter of wings and a displacement of air before the warmth of another body settled against his back. He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. 

“Hey, Cas. Anything interesting on the west coast?”

The angel grunted a non-committal noise before nuzzling his nose behind Dean’s ear and kissing at the sun-warmed skin of his neck. 

“Nothing pressing. The matter does not seem to require outside involvement.”

Dean hummed under his breath and relaxed back into the angel, allowing Cas to hold his full weight as he continued to concentrate on destroying rusted metal and cracked leather. For his part, Castiel just carried on kissing along Dean’s neck and wrapped his arms tightly around his middle. Dean tilted his head to allow better access, but didn’t break his focus from the task at hand. 

Since their original bout of sexy times, Dean had discovered two fundamental truths about his nerdy accountant angel. First… de-virginizing Cas had made the sexy bastard horny as hell all…the… time. _Not that Dean minded that very much._ And second… Cas really, _really_ liked to be in charge of their physical relationship. _And Dean minded that even less._

A chorus of wings and a couple very put-upon sighs interrupted the peaceful moment before it could stray into anything a little more risqué. Gabriel’s voice was a high-pitched falsetto that sent spikes of annoyance straight down to Dean’s toes. 

“Can Mommy and Daddy please keep it G rated outside of boudoir? My sensitive capabilities cannot handle such a display.”

Cas gave a disgruntled gust of breath against Dean’s neck before taking a step back. He moved to stand by his brother angels, who only smirked at him in response. Balthazar cleared his throat softly before he begun to pick at his fingernails in what he most likely presumed was elegant indifference. 

“Shall we report our findings, mon Capitan?” 

Dean waved a dismissive hand in their general direction. 

“Nah. Cas said no big … so … no big.”

Balthazar snorted once before disappearing in a flurry of disdain. Gabriel remained a minute more to cackle at his brother’s exit, before patting Castiel on the shoulder and buggering off to parts unknown. Dean didn’t pay much mind to where they headed, they always came back around when he needed them, and he knew they were keeping out of trouble for the most part. (As long as he ignored Balthazar’s sexual … _proclivities_ , and Gabriel’s tendency to find some poor schmuck to annoy the hell out of when he was bored.)

_Good kids… really._

“Where’s Sammy?”

Cas shrugged awkwardly (he was still learning that particular gesture) and made a vague motion towards their cabin. 

“He said something about refusing to miss one more episode of a television program to … _‘play angel-sitter for a pair of millennia old man-children who exist purely to make his life a living Hell.’_ ”

Dean smirked.

“I take it you were quoting there.”

Cas grunted in affirmation and Dean’s smirk morphed into a genuine smile.

“Sammy always did take his _stories_ very seriously.”

The angel hummed under his breath before moving forward to press against the length of Dean’s body once again. 

“I missed you, Dean.”

The ex-hunter laughed softly, and then gasped when teeth began to delicately nibble on the lobe of his ear. 

“You’ve been gone for _less than a day_ , Cas.”

Gentle kitten-licks began to trace the shell of Dean’s ear as a warm hand worked its way beneath his shirt to rest low on his belly. 

“I _always_ miss you when I am away, Dean.”

When the angel behind him followed that statement with a grind of his hips against Dean’s ass … he gave up on work for the time being. 

“Fuck it. Bedroom. Now.”

Castiel’s grin was nearly blinding and he transported them in an instant. 

~*~

Dean drifted back into consciousness to the soft press of lips along his shoulder blades. Cas was still sprawled across his back, a heavy comforting weight, in practically the same position they had dozed off in. Fingertips trailed his naked side and caused the ex-hunter to snort out a giggle. The angel above him responded with a content hum. 

“Did you vaporize the sheets again this morning, Dean?”

_Drat. Caught._

“Maybe?”

Castiel only huffed in a fond sort of amusement before resting his cheek firmly against the human’s back. 

“This is the twelfth set.”

Dean grunted before he burrowed his face further into the pillow. There was a pleasant burn and ache of emptiness in his ass that always left him feeling a bit unsettled. As if Cas had given him part of himself, only to rip it back out again. As much as he enjoyed their rampant sex life… that hollow feeling usually left him a tad morose. _(Not that he would ever fucking tell anybody about that, Christ… what an epic fucking chick flick moment that would be. He was not Kate Hudson, dammit.)_

“Then tell them to stop holding me ransom.”

The angel didn’t respond, only pulled his body up and away, leaving Dean feeling cold and slightly weightless. When he finally managed to roll himself over onto his back, Cas was returning (gloriously naked) from their en-suite bathroom with a damp cloth in his hands. (The en-suite had been demanded as necessary from their housemates after one too many embarrassing encounters involving exposed junk and unprotected eyes.) Dean smirked when the angel kneeled on the bed, and hooked his legs immediately around Cas’ hips. The one point that his angel never seemed to bend on, was that he would clean Dean up after every single bout of sex. As if it was a mandatory step in the rules of nookie. 

Step 1: Open bottom thoroughly. (see addendum: Lube, and lots of it!)  
Step 2: Fuck bottom thoroughly.  
Step 3: Clean bottom thoroughly. 

Dean was pretty sure Cas had a bullet list somewhere. At least. At _most_ there was a PowerPoint presentation that Sammy possibly had a hand in creating, and therefore Dean did. Not. Want. To. Know. 

A warm swipe of cloth against a very sensitive spot had Dean sucking in a breath. Cas paused to shift his gaze to the human’s. The furrow of his eyebrows softened and his electric blue eyes warmed almost instantly. In his head Dean was smacking his face against a proverbial wall for describing the angel’s eyes as _electric_ … but low in his belly there was a spreading flutter of fucking _feelings_ that were making a valiant effort to swim the moat around his chest. Dean beat them back with a NOPE of epic defiance. 

He loved Cas. He knew he did, and Cas knew it, too. But Dean Winchester was just not meant to be a gooey love bug of affections and emotion. He wasn’t sure if he had it in him. Sammy was the exception. But then … wasn’t Sammy _always_ the exception? 

Cas finished and pulled away to toss the dirty rag into the hamper and procure a couple clean pairs of sweatpants from the basket of folded laundry. After pulling a soft gray pair on himself, the angel tugged Dean’s favorite black sweats up onto his legs and pulled the ex-hunter’s feet through. Dean raised his hips off the bed obligingly, and allowed his angel to work the waistband up into place. Only then did Cas settle along Dean’s side and plant a warm kiss over his heart. 

“Do you need to finish working in the yard?”

Dean sighed and reached up to fiddle with Cas’ sex hair. 

“Yeah. Promised Bobby.”

Cas nodded before rising from the bed once again to go in search of an orange t-shirt. His favorite new color of the week was Mango. (Dean wanted to shoot himself in the face.) With one last full body stretch to appreciate that recently fucked feeling, he hefted himself off the mattress and to his feet. A simple flick of the wrist, and a white tank appeared in his hands. Castiel sighed. 

“It would not hurt you to do _some_ things for yourself, Dean.”

The younger man laughed sharply as he tugged on the shirt. 

“Cas, I have been doing _everything_ for myself since I was four years old. Allow me some fucking indulgence.”

With those words, he transported himself out of the room and back to his corner of the salvage yard. He didn’t want to start an argument about it, even though he knew instinctively, it was on the horizon. Too many people had been bringing it up, lately. Bobby, Sam, Cas … even Gabriel and Balthazar had made a couple off hand comments about ‘laying low’ or ‘keeping his cool’. 

He loved them all, but seriously, _fuck that shit._ Chuck had told him to his face that Dean was the future of Heaven. Everything known and unknown would be in his hands one day, so damned if he wasn’t going to be prepared. He had to be strong. He had to be perfect. He had to be able to account for any variable. Any unseen threat to the world around him. He had to be _ready._

The moment his feet touched down in the soft dirt of the yard, that barely there tinkling of feathers was back… and then his shoulder blades exploded in pain. He hit the ground face first and screamed into the packed earth. It felt like fire was spreading through his bones, trickling heat and horror under his skin with a blinding pressure. He could feel his angels and his family gathering around him, but couldn’t hear them over the roaring in his ears and the screams being ripped from his throat. 

He twisted and writhed on the ground, knocked away any hand that tried to touch him. Ignored every voice that was calling his name to the all encompassing agony spreading through his veins. A power build up began to pulse inside of him. Doubling and tripling and quadrupling until he opened his eyes and all he could see was the blinding white light of his own grace. Desperate to relieve the pressure he reached his arm towards where he knew the stack of cars he’d been set to demolish reposed in mountains of rust. He slammed his fingers closed into a fist and a dozen vehicles vaporized into dust. 

Opening his fingers and repeating the process again and again, hundreds of cars vanished into nothing under the onslaught of his power bleed. Seconds, minutes, hours later the pain and pressure began to fizzle out and with one final explosion of vehicular murder, Dean flopped to the ground, spent. When the white noise in his ears finally died down, all he could hear were his own harsh, panted breaths. The yard was virtually silent around him. It took a couple moments for him to realize that his back felt wet and cold when it had no reason to be. 

He finally opened his eyes … and nearly swallowed his tongue. Giant glaciers of ice hovered above him and cast the area in muted blue shadows. It took a second to register before he slowly turned his head to the side and was face to face with … snow. Blankets and blankets of it…as far as he could see. 

_What. The fuck._

Dean pushed himself gingerly into a seated position and gaped at the landscape around him. He had no idea where the hell he was. The blinding whites and blues of snow and ice that surrounded him damn near looked… picturesque. (He had a fleeting thought about dancing penguins and Hugh Jackman before the cold finally set in.)

“Shit!”

The ex-hunter hopped to his feet and promptly did a three-hundred and sixty degree spin. _Where was he? The fucking Arctic Circle?_ There was nothing to see for miles that wasn’t some version of accumulated frozen water. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself and danced from foot to foot awkwardly. 

_Cold. Cold. Fucking cold._

Reaching with his senses as far as he could manage, he only barely felt the presence of his angels flicking frantically around the globe trying to find him. He sent out the strongest pulse he could muster, and almost instantly, three beings popped into existence directly in front of him. 

“DEAN!”

Castiel launched himself at him with desperation. Hands groping, grabbing and grasping at every bit he could reach. Balthazar and Gabriel were hunched over and panting as if they’d just finished Heaven’s longest globe-trekking marathon. 

“Bloody _hell_ , you ass! How the fuck did you end up _here!?_ ”

Dean shook his head in confusion. 

“I dunno. I was in the yard and then … I … wasn‘t.”

Gabriel groaned and stretched his back a little over-zealously. 

“No shit, boss. One minute you were atomizing the salvage yard and the next you were gone.”

Dean nodded and tried to rub some warmth into his arms around Cas’ bad-touch flailing. His angel finally stilled enough to firmly clasp Dean’s face between his hands and plant a chaste kiss on his lips. 

“Are you alright? Are you injured?”

The ex-hunter shook his head, in so much as he could snagged in the iron fists of his terrified-angel-life-partner. 

“I’m good. I’m fine. Didn’t come here on purpose. Was just trying to bleed off a big ass power build up … didn’t expect to wake up on the set of Happy Feet.”

Cas tilted his head, obviously missing the reference, but quickly seemed to realize now might not be the best time to get into pop culture. 

“We need to get you home. Sam and Bobby were in great distress.”

“Yeah I be-,”

The next instant he was standing in the middle of their living room and two voices were screaming his name. Castiel barely had time to get out of the way before Sam slammed into him and commenced round two of bad-touch flailing. Dean sighed and reached up to tug on his little brother’s ear. 

“M’okay, Sammy. Don’t know what happened… but I’m alright.”

Sam’s laugh was pitched a little high and hysterical.

“Dean, first you were screaming like bloody murder, then you were glowing and pulverizing cars, and then you were just gone. I’m not sure _alright_ covers it.”

The elder brother shrugged his shoulders before shuffling over to collapse onto one of the giant leather couches. 

“Yeah, I dunno Sammy. Near as I can explain, it was kinda like a power surge. Just came at me all at once. I’m used to the small increments of power siphoning in, but this was more like being water-boarded with it.”

Castiel was suddenly crowded up into his space on the couch. 

“What do you mean power siphoning in? You haven’t told me about this.”

The human blinked his eyes in confusion a couple times at his angel. 

“I’m pretty sure I did, Cas.”

Sam shook his head in denial before plopping down on the arm of the couch. 

“No, I’m pretty sure you didn’t, Dean. I think we would have remembered a conversation about your power increasing exponentially.”

Dean furrowed his brows in honest bewilderment. 

“I told y’all that Chuck had assigned me as his replacement. You were all right there.”

Cas’ head did its famous _‘please explain’_ tilt and Dean groaned. 

“I’m taking over for God, guys, hellooooo? You‘ve known about this for months.”

Gabriel suddenly snapped his fingers and pointed in Dean’s direction. 

“Daddy-o is slowly transferring his power unto you. For when you take over. He’s … well and truly retiring.”

Dean allowed his head to fall back against the cushions of the couch. Finally someone around here was paying attention to the shit that had been spewing out of Dean’s mouth for ages. Every time they questioned him using the grace too frequently, or too garishly. Every time he tried to explain that he needed the practice. What the fuck did they _think_ was going on? Give Gabriel a cookie. 

In fact. 

With a careless flick of Dean’s wrist, a giant chocolate chip cookie appeared in Gabriel’s hands. The elder angel smirked deviously at him for a second, before he began devouring the confection. Dean himself was stunned stupid for a moment on the fact that it actually _worked_ this time. _Go him. He rules._

“How does it make you feel?”

Dean blinked and turned to meet Castiel’s worried gaze. 

“Feel?”

Cas nodded. Dean blinked again. 

“Summoning a _cookie?_ ”

Gabriel snorted around a mouthful of crumbs while Cas did his best impersonation of Sammy bitchface # 12. Sam himself may have possibly face-palmed at Dean’s side, but screw them, he’d just successfully summoned an actual whole cookie… and it was awesome. _Maybe he would try pie next. Hmmm._

“The power transfer… how are you … handling it?”

Dean aborted the thoughts of pie _(piiiiiiiiieeee…)_ and pursed his lips with a shrug. 

“It’s not so bad. Like I said, it’s been slow, barely noticeable. Today’s bitch slap was a first time deal. I didn’t get any warning. All I know is that I was transporting myself out to the yard and when I landed I thought I heard wings … then there was nothing but pain.”

Gabriel perked up from behind his cookie. 

“You thought you heard the sound of wings?”

A strange glace was shared between the archangel and Balthazar that made Dean a little nervous. 

“Yeeeeeah … but none of you were around, right?”

Balthazar harrumphed under his breath before taking a step towards the couch. 

“Can you build up your power right now? Increase it… but keep it contained?”

The ex-hunter squinted his eyes at the angel before nodding. Balthazar gave a flourish of a hand motion to get on with it, so Dean closed his eyes and focused on pulling power from the world around him and inside him. It built and built in his system until his nerves felt as tight as guitar strings. When he opened his eyes the world was washed in the white glow of his grace. Balthazar and Gabriel were crowded up close to him with wide eyes. The taller angel’s lips were moving, but Dean heard the words more inside his head, than with his ears. 

“Can you feel a funny little pull between your shoulder blades? Like something wants to be set free?”

Dean concentrated on picking apart each feeling currently coursing through his body, and there was indeed a strange little tug on his upper back. He nodded at Balthazar, and damned if the angel’s eyes didn’t sort of twinkle with something neighboring on glee. 

“Release that pull. Let it do what it wants to do.”

It seemed kind of stupid and simple, but Dean figured… what the hell. So he snipped that tiny tugging sensation… and immediately power burst from his back. It was all focused on his shoulder blades, but this time there was no pain. Only the sensation of something massive and bright surging out from his body. The angels around him all gasped and jumped back, but the humans looked completely confused. Dean blinked and rolled his shoulders. A heavy weight responded to the movement, and a rustling of feathers filled the room. Curious, he glanced over his right shoulder. 

“HOLY SHIT!”

When he jerked and spun sideways, the two massive wings he could see spun with him and knocked Castiel right off of the couch. Dean jumped to his feet and glanced over his left shoulder. There were two more massive wings spread out straight from his back. Just as with the other side, the upper most wing was a bright, pearlescent white… while the bottom wing was a shimmering blue-black. 

“WHAT THE FUCK!?”

He spun in a quick circle, as if he could get a better look at them, but it only resulted in Balthazar and Gabriel being flicked across the room. Dean yelped and turned back the other way, where the unfortunate Cas was caught broad-sided and flung right over the couch. Curiously, Sam and Bobby were unaffected. The wings just seemed to pass right through them. Dean screeched out a (very manly) noise when some of the feathers came to a halt and appeared to be cutting straight through Sam’s head. 

Dean jumped back and twisted, felt the wings spread open wide behind him … just in time to catch Balthazar in the face and send him crashing to the floor. 

“Oh, bloody hell!”

Something gently tried to snag one of the bottom wings and the electric shock of sensation sang through him. Dean flung himself sideways, which apparently ripped him out of the hold Cas was attempting to gain on him, and simultaneously sent one of the giant white wings slamming into Gabriel’s gut. 

“Dammit, Deano!”

“I’m sorry!”

He spun himself around again. He was feeling dizzy, and out of sorts, and way too fucking claustrophobic at the moment. Not to mention, you know, he apparently had two giant fuck-off sets of wings on his back! 

“Dean! Please calm down!”

He turned quickly to face Sam, but the wings moved with him and knocked Cas’ feet right out from under him. 

“Cas! I’m sorry!”

When he turned to help Cas, the wings shifted the opposite way and smacked straight back into Balthazar and Gabriel. When he turned to check on them, the wings swept Cas right back to the floor again. A steady thrum of panic was welling in his chest, and for the first time in months, Dean felt like he was falling off an unsteady ledge. 

“Dammit!”  
“You bloody sod!”  
“Dean, please-”  
“WOULD YOU STOP MOVING YOU DAMN IDJIT!”

Dean immediately froze, and all four wings dropped dejectedly towards the floor. He was panting harsh breaths through his mouth and could feel his hands shaking with nerves. In response to his mood, the wings were trembling behind him. Soft tinkling of noise as the feathers brushed against each other. He was too unsteady on his feet, so allowed himself to sink to his knees. When he finally glanced up, the three angels were in complete disarray, with hair and clothes askew. Bent over and wide-eyed and … covered in black and white down. 

A hysterical giggle erupted out of Dean’s throat before he could stop it. He could only imagine the state he himself must be in. It must have been pretty worrying, because the next second Castiel was crashing to his knees before Dean and gathering him close in his arms. Dean instantly responded by burrowing his face into his lover’s neck and wrapping his own arms tightly around the angel. Cas was making soothing, soft sounds into his hair while Dean tried to get a hold of himself. 

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay. They are just wings. Only wings. They are a part of you. We should have been expecting this, I apologize… I just didn’t think.”

He could feel himself shaking in the angel’s embrace, but couldn’t force his own body to still. Sam was frantically trying to get someone to explain what just happened, and Gabriel was trying to comply, but Dean was tuning out the conversation. Only wincing when he heard his brother screech out the word ‘WINGS!?’ shortly before collapsing back on the couch. The weight on his back shifted just before the room grew darker and Cas gasped softly. When Dean slit his eyes open he could understand why. He had apparently, unconsciously, brought his wings up around them, folding them over and around their kneeling bodies. The room had disappeared behind a wall of feathers. Just he and Cas remained. 

_Huh. It’s like a wing teepee._

  


He snorted softly at his own thought before sniffing once and pulling back from Castiel. The angel’s gaze was intense and worried when it locked with Dean’s. 

“Are you alright?”

Dean nodded his answer before bringing his hands up to softly tug at his own hair. 

“Fuck, Cas. Wings? Seriously?”

Castiel squinted his eyes slightly and pursed his lips in thought. 

“With your power manifesting and steadily growing, as you said, I suppose we really should have expected this to happen sooner. The stronger you become… the more heavenly attributes are likely to appear.”

Dean sighed as he allowed his forehead to thunk down onto the angel’s shoulder. 

“Please tell me my junk’s not gonna disappear.”

For his part, Cas grunted softly in his usual attempt at a chuckle. A warm hand came to rest at the back of Dean’s neck as the angel placed a gentle kiss to the side of the ex-hunter’s head. 

“You are still human. I highly doubt that would happen… but if it did, I would definitely be taking it up with the Father.”

Dean snorted. 

“Like my junk where it is, Cas?”

Castiel smiled, lips still pressed into Dean’s skin. 

“I very much do.”

The elder Winchester snorted before leaning back and away. He had to concentrate fully on forcing his wings out of their tented position and behind him. The sight he was greeted with was pretty fucking comical. Sam, Bobby, Gabriel and Balthazar were all seated on one couch, staring wide-eyed at them. Well, Sam and Bobby more wide-eyed than the angels, but that was probably because Gabe appeared to be touching them both on the temple with his fingers so the lowly humans could see Dean’s new angelic show-stoppers. Dean heaved a heavy sigh before giving his brother a small smile. 

“What do you think, Sammy? Are they my color?”

The younger man blinked a couple times before he seemed to shake himself out of a stupor. 

“Jesus, Dean … wings? Really?”

Dean flung out his arms dramatically, and the wings copied the action without his permission. 

“I know right? That’s what I said!”

Sam sighed before he leaned back to rub at his temples. 

“I’m assuming manifestation of power? A big pulse all at once needed some form of outlet… so … wings.”

Gabriel grinned and scooted closer to Sam on the couch. 

“Got it in one. _Who’s the smartest Winchester? Who is, precious?_ ”

When the baby-talk started, Sam visibly flinched back and shot the angel the strangest look of consideration that Dean had ever seen cross his little brother’s face. It made him pause and think for a second. It also made him consider the last several weeks. Gabe had been getting progressively clingier with Sam. Following him around and bugging him incessantly. _Like a fly on shit._

At first Dean had just figured the shorter angel had enjoyed pissing off the human previously known as Lucifer’s meat suit … but now… if he didn’t know better… Dean would swear it looked an awful lot like pigtail pulling. He smirked. 

“Huh.”

Sam’s gaze swiveled to meet his, but Dean only grinned at his questioning look. Let the little brother figure it out for himself. Having an angel after a piece of your tail was definitely an interesting experience. Who was Dean to spoil the fun for Sam? If he could get away with it, he might have cackled maniacally at the thought. Instead, he just swished a dismissive hand in Sam’s direction and slowly maneuvered himself to his feet. Cas had to help him balance a little, what with the massive weight now attached to his shoulders, but they stood up fairly gracefully. 

“And what does the almighty Chuck have to say about this power bleed?”

Dean turned to face Bobby. He shrugged his shoulders and the wings copied the motion again. He turned to eye them suspiciously for a second before answering. 

“Nothing. I haven’t spoken with him in weeks.”

Balthazar perked up. 

“Weeks? I thought you were having regular checkups?”

The elder Winchester nodded. 

“We were, but then he said something important had come up that he had to deal with and I haven’t heard from him since.”

Gabriel finished batting his eyelashes at Sam, much to the younger man’s relief, and finally clued back in to the conversation. 

“He didn’t say what it was?”

Dean shook his head and Gabe hopped to his feet. 

“So he says something big is going on, disappears, and then you have a random power surge that you almost couldn’t handle? That couldn’t be a coincidence.”

Balthazar sighed dramatically before sharing a glance with the arch-angel. 

“Permission to storm the castle, sire?”

Dean nodded but the two elder angels were already gone. Castiel was fidgeting in front of him when Dean finally turned his attention back to him. The angel’s gaze kept flicking to Dean’s wings and back, and unless he was mistaken, there was a faint blush of pink across the other man’s cheeks. Huh. Apparently wing kink was a check for his angelic life partner. _Saving that bit of information for later. Yup._

“Cas? Am I stuck like this? Or can I get them to go away?”

Castiel blinked at him for a second before nodding. 

“Yes. They can be stored away when necessary. I can teach you.”

~*~

It took several hours, a bit of screaming, a LOT of cursing and a smack or two from Bobby before Dean managed to make the two sets of wings de-materialize from his back. He was grouchy and sweated by the time they achieved success, and honestly a bit worried at his other two angel’s continued absence. Whenever they had popped up top previously, they never stayed long, just enough for reconnaissance. This time they had been gone for the entire ordeal of Dean tucking away his new appendages and still hadn’t returned. 

“I don’t like it.”

Castiel sighed as he pulled out a new set of sheets from their closet. 

“You are connected to them, Dean. If something had happened… you would feel it.”

Dean shifted out of the angel’s way so that he could make the bed with their thirteenth set of sheets. (They stocked a surplus of them at this point.) This set was a pale orange color, and Dean was pretty sure that was Cas punishing him for vaporizing the last set. 

“Yeah, I got that … but I still don’t like it. Gabriel’s not even responding when I poke him, and he loves to poke me back. Viciously.”

Cas hummed softly under his breath as he retrieved the down comforter and spread it across the foot of the bed. 

“He may just be concentrating on whatever has happened.”

Dean growled and kicked at the pillows stacked on the floor. 

“Dammit. It just pisses me off that I can’t send you up there to sort it out.”

The angel froze in the middle of reaching for one of the pillows and Dean cursed under his breath. Castiel hated when he was reminded about his banishment from Heaven. Even if he was happy with his life on earth. Even if he was in love with Dean. He didn’t like to think about being shut out of his home. Dean quickly crossed the room to wrap his arms around the slighter man. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

Castiel sighed and pushed himself gently out of Dean’s embrace. 

“You did not have to bring up what I was already thinking of.”

“Cas-,”

“I think I would like to go for a walk, Dean.”

“Yeah, sure, babe wherever you-,” 

“Alone, please, Dean.”

The ex-hunter blinked, a little stunned at first, but nodded to show his angel that he understood. Cas turned abruptly and walked out the door, leaving his human to just stare at his retreating back. Dean flopped backwards onto the mattress and sighed at the ceiling. Great. Just great. What a fanfuckingtastic day he was having. 

There was a soft knock at the door and a lift of his head revealed Sam leaning in the doorway. 

“You okay, Dean?”

The elder brother snorted before allowing his head to drop back onto the bed. 

“Just peachy, Sammy. You?”

Sam moved further into the room until he was standing close enough to cast Dean in his massive shadow. His arms were crossed over his chest and the look on his face was hitting bitch level. 

“I’m worried about you.”

Dean snorted but Sam continued as if he hadn’t. 

“You’ve got these power surges happening, you nearly had a breakdown over the wings this afternoon, and now Cas just walked out of here looking like he was sucking on a lemon.”

“Maybe he was.”

“Dean!”

The younger man sighed again before sitting on the edge of the bed near Dean’s knees.

“There’s a lot going on. And it’s scary and crazy and maybe… just a little too _big_ for you to handle by yourself like you always do. Talk to us. Talk to me or Cas or Bobby. Stop bottling this shit all up inside. Jesus, Dean! You have _wings!_ And the power to move things, change things … you’re going to be the replacement for God. _God!_ Sometimes I just don’t know what to think about all this. Sometimes I just get lost inside my head with it. So I can’t imagine what it’s like for _you._ ”

Dean rolled over on his side facing away from his brother, hoping that would end the conversation. _No such luck._

“It’s just … you’re so quiet lately. Not that you were ever particularly verbose, but this is different. You don’t talk to me anymore. You keep saying you’re fine, but I have a lifetime of experience telling me how empty that word is when it comes to your well-being. I don’t know what’s going on inside that stupid, thick skull of yours. Are you okay with all of this? Are you really, _really_ okay with this?”

Dean grunted before he flipped back over to stare at his younger brother. 

“Does it really matter, Sam? I don’t get a choice in this. Haven’t since the very beginning. So it’s more about figuring out how to work with the hand I’ve been dealt, rather than painting our fingernails and bonding over Hagen Daas.”

Sam snorted before twisting his body to lie down beside his brother. 

“You always take too much onto yourself. You’re not alone here. Even if you didn’t have me and the others… you have Cas. I mean, he’s like your … life partner, or whatever, right? Do you even talk about this with him? How you’re changing? What the future holds for both of you?”

Dean pursed his lips and refused to meet his brother’s gaze. 

“Or are you just focusing on your physical relationship and leaving Castiel just as in the dark as I am?”

“What do you expect me to say, Sam? I don’t do share and care. That’s just not in my makeup. I can’t tell you how I’m feeling about everything if I haven’t even sorted it out in my own head, now can I? I’m just trying to do the best that I can, day by day, for everyone that depends on me. And for everything that will depend on me in the future.”

The younger Winchester sighed softly before he slowly lifted himself off the mattress. 

“That’s just my point, Dean. You’re always talking about doing right for everyone else … but who do you depend on? Who do you lean on when you need a break?”

Before Dean could even formulate a response to the question, Sam had already left the room. 

~*~

Cas didn’t come back that night. Neither did Gabriel or Balthazar. Dean spent a restless evening tossing and turning in the fucking orange sheets before he gave up at four a.m. and trudged his way down towards the kitchen. The cabin was silent and dark as he grabbed himself a beer from the fridge and popped off the cap without even touching it. He took two deep pulls of the drink before he settled himself on a barstool and rubbed a hand down his face in exhaustion. 

“These fried pickle chips really are divine.”

“FUCK!”

Dean sprang backwards off the stool, sending his beer bottle spinning across the kitchen island to die a miserable, explosive death on the floor. Almost as an unconscious instinct, his wings had instantly manifested themselves to fling wide and help keep his balance. When he finally stumbled to a stop a couple feet away (heart beating like a maniac inside his chest), he could only glare at the figure calmly seated at the barstool that had been next to his. 

Death. Fucking _Death_ was sitting at his kitchen counter. Impeccably dressed as always and picking little bits of fried food out of a grease-stained paper bag. The (frankly) intimidating manifestation of the heebie-jeebies just arched a critical eyebrow at Dean’s flailing before picking up a take away cup and sucking down what appeared to be a vanilla milkshake. 

“I do so love the new accessories, Dean. Very becoming.”

That damn voice, like silk over gravel, always with the condescendingly creepy tone that was somehow both sweet librarian and uncle bad touch. Dean could feel his wings quivering with nerves but he couldn’t still them.

“Jesus Christ! What the hell are you doing here?”

The slender horseman plopped another fried pickle into his mouth and chewed almost delicately for a moment before he responded. 

“Given your current situation, you might wish to refrain from certain urbane uses of the language. After all… he _is_ family now, isn’t he?”

Dean could only blink a couple times in response. He willed his brain not to go off on a tangent with the topic. _Seriously_ … would _Jesus be his family now? Whoa. Heady shit._ Instead, he concentrated on slowly maneuvering himself back onto a barstool on the other end of the island. His wings were still arched out in tense lines behind him, but he knew that trying to find the concentration to will them away at this point would be … well … pointless. He flicked his wrist and the mess on the floor disappeared, and a new beer sprung to life in his empty hand. Death smirked at him. 

“Impressive. Enjoying our parlor tricks I see.”

The hunter could only shrug as he gulped down several pulls of his drink. When he was finished, Dean wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and licked his lips. 

“So… early morning visit from Death. Always a rejuvenating way to start your day. To what do I owe the pleasure? Social visit? Shall we play some bridge?”

The horseman heaved a very put-upon sigh before he discarded his bag of fried food on the counter. 

“As _delightful_ as that suggestion may seem, I’m afraid that I am here on a matter of business.”

Dean snorted as he placed his bottle back on the island. 

“Business? With me? Not looking to take a little vacay, are you? Not sure I’m up to playing Death this week.”

The older man shifted on the barstool to face him fully, normal deadpan expression still eerily present. 

“Again, lovely suggestion, but I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible anymore even if you were being sincere.”

“Oh, really? Why’s that? I figured I’d be even _more_ qualified at this point.”

He gestured vaguely to the four massive wings sprouting from his back. Death made a deep grunting noise of annoyance in the back of his throat that probably meant something along the lines of _‘stupid monkeys why can I not smite you all, woe is me’_ … but Dean may have been projecting. Possibly. 

“Hardly. Considering your recent promotion lays more in the realm of Giver of Life, rather than Angel of Death.”

Dean hummed under his breath as he scratched at his stubbly chin. 

“Huh. Guess that makes sense.”

The horseman almost rolled his eyes, Dean could tell, but instead chose to stand and walk idly towards the living room of the cabin. A little hesitant, Dean stood to follow, commanding his wings to tuck in close to his back. They miraculously agreed. 

“Something has been taken from me. Something that I have only recently had returned. The resulting mess that this action will no doubt set in motion has me a bit … put out.”

The human snorted. 

“Who would be stupid enough to piss off _Death?_ ”

Slowly cutting his eyes towards Dean, the older man raised a single skeptical eyebrow. _Oh… right._ Dean smirked and shrugged a shoulder. 

“Point. So barring yours truly… who was it this time?”

“A mutual acquaintance we unfortunately share. One that fancies himself the King of Hell at the moment.”

Dean groaned. 

“Crowley? Son of a bitch. What did he do _now?_ ”

The horseman ran his thin, spindly fingers along the back of the leather couch as he wandered over towards the massive stone fireplace in the corner. With a tap of his ever-present cane, a fire roared to life even though there weren’t actually any logs inside the pit at the moment. A satisfied smirk appeared on the horseman’s face before he elegantly settled himself into one of the large seats just before the fireplace. He gestured to the matching chair facing him with his cane and Dean shuffled over to plop down inside it. 

“The annoyingly bombastic imbecile has stolen my scythe.”

“The one I gave you back in Chicago?”

Death pursed his lips. 

“Indeed. I had left it in what I had considered a safe place, but apparently the sticky-fingered pilferer managed to snatch it up whilst I wasn’t aware. I sent my reapers out to find him and retrieve it for me, but the braggart must have used it to influence them in some way. They are no longer responding to my command.”

Dean’s spine shot ram-rod straight. His wings attempted to flare out wide in shock, but they were trapped in the confines of the chair and just beat against his back instead. 

“Wait. The reapers aren’t obeying … _Death._ All of them?”

The horseman reached over with his cane to rap the tip of it against Dean’s knee. 

“Yes, all of them. Even your little friend Tessa. Do try to pay attention, Dean. I’m not here conversing with you merely to listen to the sound of my own voice.”

Dean barely managed to stop himself from sticking his tongue out at the Angel of Death. Barely. 

“Why would Crowley want the reapers? What can he gain from controlling them?”

Death sighed and settled back further in his chair. 

“Admittedly, this is the question I am currently asking myself as well. The only theory I could possibly come up with… was that he plans to use them against _you_ somehow.”

This time his wings startled so much that they popped out from behind him and shot forward towards the other man. All they managed to accomplish was nearly smothering Dean in feathers. He had to physically push them out of the way with his hands in order to stare at Death through them. 

“Me? What the hell? Why?”

The horseman was twirling his cane with disinterest in his hands as he answered. 

“I assume because you would not back down to him as he demanded of you.”

“You … you know about that?”

Never in a million years had the eldest Winchester could have imagined he would have the horrific pleasure of witnessing the Grand Grim Reaper … scoff. It was, dare he say, almost enough to qualify as a _giggle._

“Dean, the entirety of Heaven and Hell know what you did. The Heavenly Host and their supporters speak of you in hushed whispers as if you were a superhero in some sort of graphic novel-,”

“Awesome!”

“-those that err on the side of Crowley are after your pretty little head. They believe, reasonably so, that bringing your skull on a spike to him would ingratiate and embolden themselves to the current ruler of Hell.”

“Well damn. That kind of puts a damper on the hero worship bit.”

Death scoffed. Again. _Surreal._

“Indeed.”

“So he’s going to try and sick your reapers on me? What’s he after?”

“I’m assuming that he is trying to kill you, of course. Or perhaps take out enough of your precious family to weaken your resolve. Anything is possible with his contemptible little mind.”

Dean shifted in his seat and pushed one of the black wings down into his lap to pick at the feathers absently. 

“Is he strong enough to sway them to his side? Is it going to work?”

The horseman twitched just a little in his chair. 

“I am unsure. I highly doubt that the leech is strong enough to control them outright. At most I believe they may be out there, wandering aimlessly, with no intent or purpose. There is a possibility that some of the younger of my flock may be weak enough to be persuaded. This is why I’m here.”

The human could only nod in response as he tugged on a slightly bent errant feather. After a final pull, the feather was plucked out of the wing and Dean studied the blue sheen of it in the firelight. 

“What will they do if he manages to persuade them? Try to reap us? Kill us?”

Death hummed thoughtfully at the question, but his eyes were tracking the feather clasped between Dean’s fingers. 

“Reapers cannot kill those not already scheduled for death. They are, however, a formidable force to be reckoned with. They never tire nor feel pain. You cannot catch them or exorcise them from a body, as you can with demons. If I were to guess… I believe Crowley may use them as a front line of attack, as it were. To wear you down enough that his horde can slip in behind and finish the job. I believe you’ve angered him. Crowley thought he knew you, from the time when you worked together. He thought he understood you enough to be able to play your fears. Force you to dance to his tune. Clearly you have risen above his expectations of you, and are forcing his hand. I would tread very lightly.”

Dean grunted in agreement as he slouched back into his chair. He moved to flick the loose feather into the fire, when the horseman abruptly raised a hand to stop him. 

“Wait. My I have that?”

Frozen in place, Dean arched a single eyebrow at the other man. 

“You want … the feather?”

Death merely nodded before turning his hand so the palm faced upward. 

“Please. If I may?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed.

“Why?”

The horseman pursed his lips in thought, but his gaze did not leave the feather. 

“A piece of The Chosen, freely given, would be a powerful object to possess. A key that would open many doors, as it were. In the right company it would signify that the beholder was entrusted by The Chosen with something of his own and should be respected and obeyed as if the words were spoken by God himself. In the wrong company … it would signify my allegiance to you and very likely anger Crowley fiercely.”

Dean’s gaze flicked down to the blue-black feather held between his thumb and forefinger. 

“You would give your allegiance … to _me?_ ”

Death sighed and wiggled his fingers with impatience. 

“I do admit that often I find you to be an irritating mouth-breather, but for the most part you are a highly entertaining creature in the tedium that is my existence. I would not have come here to warn you of the impending attack by Crowley had I not already swayed myself further to your side of the fence. I know God, Dean … and you sir, are no God. But you have the _potential_ to be.”

The ex-hunter was stunned for a moment by the horseman’s words before he slowly leaned forward to place the feather in Death’s outstretched hand. The older man’s eyes widened a fraction at the first touch against his skin and a tiny smile stretched across his thin lips. 

“How enchanting.”

Dean coughed. 

“Do you … want a white one, too? Matching set, or whatever?”

For a split second the Angel of Death had a look on his face that could have rivaled a pre-pubescent girl at a Justin Bieber concert, but it was gone in a flash. Dean could only chuckle in response, but made sure not to meet the horseman’s gaze after doing so. He pulled down one of his white wings and began to idly ruffle through them, trying to find one that was damaged enough to warrant plucking it out. Death leaned forward in his chair, supported by his cane, and helpfully _(yeah, right)_ tried to point out feathers that might suffice. 

This was how Dean’s three angels found them twenty minutes later. 

“That one there would be lovely.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that one! You keep trying to find the best ones. I think you’re missing the point.”

“Ooh! What about this one? I _like_ this one.”

“That one is completely perfect and healthy! The whole point of grooming out feathers is to find the ones that are damaged and need to be removed.”

Gabriel cleared his throat and mumbled a confused ‘um, boss?’ but Dean only swished his hand at him with irritation and continued his conversation with the horseman. 

“This one is so pretty, though.”

Dean growled in exasperation before he reached down to grasp the feather and plucked it out. 

“Oh my God, fine! Have the pretty one! Happy?”

The horseman actually grinned as he snatched the feather from Dean’s hand. 

“Yes. Very much so.”

Castiel stepped forward cautiously. 

“Dean?”

Death stopped twirling the white feather for a moment as he slowly turned to take in the three new additions to their fireside chat. 

“Oh, do look … your three stooges have arrived at last.”

That seemed to smack a little reality back into Dean and he hopped instantly to his feet, fought off a tangle of wings, and then stomped a couple paces towards Castiel. 

“Where the hell have you been? All of you!? I’ve been worried shitless!”

Balthazar snorted delicately as Gabriel crossed his arms tightly over his chest. 

“Really? Seems more like you’ve been having a tea party with the Grim Reaper.”

Dean rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but said reaper slowly stood from his chair and tapped his cane on the floor once. The fire immediately went out in the fireplace. 

“Do learn to hold your tongue, Gabriel. It was a favor to your Father that allowed you to return to life. I would have no issue reneging on the deal should you piss me off.”

The archangel blustered visibly, but remained quiet. Death turned once again to Dean as he gently tucked the two feathers in his hand into his suit pocket. 

“As always, this has been lovely. I hope you take my warning to heart, and do let me know if you find out anything regarding my particular … predicament.”

Dean nodded, but before his head even stopped moving, the horseman was gone. Castiel instantly descended on him, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders and squeezing tightly. 

“Are you alright? Why was he here?”

Balthazar tutted as he turned towards the kitchen to snag his ever present bottle of wine. 

“More importantly, Cassie dear, what the hell was he talking about? What warning and what predicament?”

Gabriel nodded and shadowed Dean as he pushed away from Cas to head towards the fridge himself. Another beer would be in order for this. 

“I’ll tell you everything he said, but first you need to tell me where you’ve been, and Cas … please help me put these damn wings away again.”

~*~

The early morning sun was just beginning to filter into their room when Dean and Cas finally made it to bed. Cas was methodically taking off and folding his clothes as Dean just flicked his own off with a burst of power before he collapsed on the bed in just his briefs. He snuggled deep into his pillow before he released a heavy sigh of exhaustion. 

“So Chuck is just gone? No one knows where he is?”

Castiel made a soft sound of acknowledgement before he climbed into bed and straddled Dean’s waist, lowering himself until he was seated on Dean’s ass. The ex-hunter was just about to inquire on possible sexy times when the angel’s hands began to massage deep into his shoulder blades and neck. 

“Oh… fuck.”

Cas huffed but didn’t pause in his movements. 

“The wings are new to your body. I could tell that your shoulders were tense and stiff.”

Dean mumbled into the pillow. 

“Keep that up and my shoulders won’t be thing only things that end up stiff.”

The angel sighed with resigned affection before digging his fingers deep into a stubborn muscle. A startled grunt punched out of Dean, but was closely followed with a relieved sigh. 

“Seriously, Cas… you fell out of the awesome tree and hit every branch on the way down.”

They remained quiet for several minutes, until Dean’s body was officially a pile of goo on the mattress. Cas tilted himself sideways into a graceful fall to land beside Dean. The angel leaned forward to kiss softly along the human’s bare shoulder a couple times before he finally settled himself into his preferred sleeping position. His voice was a hushed whisper in the room.

“Balthazar and Gabriel confirmed it. No one in Heaven has seen our Father in several days. Apparently Joshua was mum on the subject and no one seemed overly concerned. Gabriel said the Heavenly Hosts were well on their way to being perfectly in order once again. Raphael and several others had been properly chastised and were on their best behavior.”

“It doesn’t sit well with you, though, does it?”

Cas shook his head just slightly before he brought his hand up to trace along the shell of Dean’s ear. 

“It does not. I searched Earth as well as I could to see if I could find a trace of him, but there was nothing. If he hadn’t mentioned to you that he had something important to deal with … I might have been less concerned. But I just don’t like this.”

Dean nodded and shivered at the sensation of fingertips across his skin. 

“What do the wonder twins think?”

The angel smirked, just slightly.

“They agree with me. Especially with the information Death provided to you, this cannot be a coincidence. For Father to disappear just as we discover that Crowley is planning something … _epic._ ”

“Good use of the word, Cas.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean drifted off to sleep with the ghost-light touches of Castiel’s fingertips trailing along his skin. Considering it had been about six in the morning by the time he’d actually fallen asleep, it was quite understandable that he woke up completely disoriented about what time, or even which day it was. The room was dark around him, and Cas was no longer in bed. Dean yawned and stretched before pulling himself up to a seated position in the middle of the mattress. He turned to the bedside table for help with the time, but the alarm clock was dark. 

“Dammit. Did we lose electricity?”

He flicked his hand towards the light switch by the door to flip it on, but when it clicked nothing happened. 

“How could we lose electricity to a house that’s powered by God’s will? Cas?”

The cabin was completely silent and still around him. Dean slowly stood from the bed and flicked his clothes back onto his body. He entered the hallway without making a sound and froze for a moment just to listen. There was absolutely no noise at all and the entire cabin was dark. He double-timed it to Sam’s door which was slightly ajar, so he willed it to open without making a sound. The room was empty and shadowed. Not a single one of his brother’s electronics showed even a glimmer of life. 

“Sammy?”

His whispered voice bounced back at him from the vacant room. 

“Oh… I’m not liking this. Not liking this at all.”

When he moved back into the hallway, Dean paused between the doors of Gabe’s and Balthazar’s rooms, but he could feel that the angels weren’t inside. They seemed just a barren of life as Sam’s. He tip-toed toward the staircase and glanced down into what he could make out of the living room below. Nothing seemed out of place, save for the deep shadows and utter silence. If there was one thing that could be said about the Alimony cabin… it was _never_ quiet. 

Dean padded down the spiral staircase with as much stealth as the wrought-iron would allow. As soon as he was able, he ducked down to peer into the large open living area and kitchen. There was no one on the first floor either. When he reached the last step he eyed the kitchen. No electricity there either, it seemed. He skirted along the wall until he reached the fridge and carefully pulled it open. The air inside was still cold, as if the power was running, but the light didn’t come on and the absence of the static hum of the compressor made the silence of the kitchen that much more eerie. 

He closed the door and turned to face the living room. The windows appeared almost an opaque black. He couldn’t make out Bobby’s house or any of the lights he always had running around the perimeter of the scrap yard. Taking a deep breath, Dean trotted toward the front door. When he quietly stepped out onto the front porch, it was only to be greeted with more inky blackness obscuring everything around him from view. He could just barely make out the shapes of the cars in the yard and the dirt paths that weaved around the whole place like a maze. 

“Dammit.”

He scooted forward cautiously into the yard for a couple feet before an idea struck him. Bringing his right hand out before him, Dean imagined growing a tiny ball of light in his palm. It manifested ever so slowly, but eventually there was a tiny sun floating above the center of his palm. Dean grinned in triumph as he raised his head to take in the somewhat illuminated yard around him. 

“HOLY FUCK!”

Reapers. There were fucking reapers _everywhere._ Between each nook and cranny created by the cars. Dozens and dozens of them standing there in their black suits with their gaunt faces. Just staring at him. Dean spun in a full turn on his heel, only to find more of them blocking his way back to the cabin. 

“Shit!”

As one, all the reapers took a single step closer to him. Dean pulled his power to manifest his wings, arching them out high behind him. He tossed the little sun up in the air so that it was hovering just above his head. 

“Okay! Okay! Let’s everyone stay calm here! I know you guys don’t really want to be doing this! I had a little chat with your Daddy, and he really wants everyone to run along home now. Ignore whatever verbal diarrhea Crowley is yammering into your ears.”

“Dean. You wound me.”

The current Ruler of Hell stepped from behind a beefy reaper, an angel blade in his hand glinting in the flickering light. Crowley raised his arm as if to throw the blade, but Dean flung himself backwards and demanded his power to take him far away. _Take me to the horseman, wherever he is._ The world shifted around him, and he felt dizzy and lightheaded before slamming into something flimsy. 

The bright sun in the sky nearly blinded him, and he instantly brought his wings around his body to shield himself. He pulled one of the white wings out of the way to peek around it. People milled about him everywhere, weaving in and around brightly colored tents as far as the eye could see. 

“What… the hell?”

A paper crinkled under his toes and he raised his foot to peer down at it. It was a flyer. For the Texas State Fair … 1982. 

“No fucking way.”

“Dean?”

His head whipped up to meet the slightly wide eyes of Death himself. The human’s wings drooped in relief. The horseman was eyeing him curiously, all the while holding something fried and undistinguishable in his hand. It looked like a shapeless ball of dough on a stick … nevertheless… 

“It actually worked. I came right to you.”

Death tilted his head a fraction before nibbling daintily on the suspicious (maybe) piece of food. 

“But how did you arrive here? This is the past.”

Dean shrugged.

“No idea, man. All I know is that I woke up in Reaperville, population: _holy shit,_ and Crowley was about to shish-ka-bob me. So I demanded my power to bring me to you, no matter where you were… and here we are.”

The horseman hummed thoughtfully under his breath before he turned to walk away. Dean tucked his wings in close and followed quickly after the older man. 

“If you traveled through time that effortlessly, your powers are manifesting very rapidly indeed.”

Dean grimaced when he accidentally stepped into a cooling spill of melted ice cream with his bare foot. He flicked the mess away with a small burst of power, but didn’t call for his shoes. It almost physically pained him to wear anything on his feet now. If he couldn’t feel the power of the earth beneath him he felt disconnected and itchy. 

Death finished off whatever hideous blob of food had been on the stick, and without turning to look, flung the little piece of wood straight into a trash can. He continued to meander along, and it took Dean a moment to realize they were right in the heart of the food vendors at the fair. _No fucking wonder._

“Oh! We really must try one of the corndogs! They are quite famous for them here!”

Dean followed him helplessly as they navigated to the most crowded stand in the area. The horseman just strode right up to the vendor, ignoring the line, and plucked two corndogs directly out of his hand. The man didn’t even seem to notice, kept conversing with the person at the front of the queue. 

“Would you like mustard?”

The ex-hunter just nodded and took the corndog when it was offered to him. Death was already munching away. 

“Mmm… these are _delightful._ ”

They moved through the crowd to find an empty bench and sit down. 

“So would you like to tell me why you sought me out, Dean?”

Downing the last bite of his food before flicking the stick into non-existence, Dean grunted and stretched out his wings. His shoulders were beginning to cramp for holding them so tightly against his body. 

“I laid down for a nap, and when I woke up the world was a supernatural kind of dark and every living thing had apparently disappeared. When I walked outside there were fucking reapers everywhere. I tried to reason with them, but they didn’t even acknowledge me. Then Crowley showed up and I just kind of … flung myself away, and ended up here.”

A thoughtful sound accompanied the end of his story, and the horseman flicked his empty corndog stick into a trashcan about fifty yards away. Dean blinked. 

“Nice one.”

Death smirked.

“Thank you, Dean. I’m going to assume then, that the sniveling malcontent holds more power over them than I had at first considered. The reapers were most likely altering your reality so that you could only see what Crowley wished you to. Your family was probably right there alongside you, attempting to gain your attention, but you were unable to communicate or see them. The angels, Crowley, nor the reapers would be able to follow you here, however. You are safe for now.”

The younger man nodded and fluttered his wings out behind him. 

“So this is the assmunch’s big plan then? Get your kiddos to warp the world around me and stake me through the heart with an angel blade?”

Death tilted his head and shifted his gaze to meet Dean’s. 

“He had an angel blade with him? Then the fool is even more obtuse as I had first reasoned.”

“Why is that?”

The horseman snorted as he moved to stand. 

“Because you cannot be killed with an angel blade. You are not an angel. Yes, the feathery additions may make it seem so, but they are more a materialization of your increasing power. There is nothing of the Heavenly Hosts inside you as of yet.”

Death smirked just slightly. 

“Or perhaps I should rephrase that.”

Dean blanched. 

“Please tell me the Grim Reaper did not just make a sex joke. Please.”

The older man huffed a soft laugh. 

“That was not a joke, Dean. That was an insinuation. If I had wished to tell a joke, I may have said something like _‘Your eyes are heavenly. Do you have a little angel in you? Would you like one?’_ ”

Head dropping back to face the sky, Dean groaned in anguish. 

“Please stop. Oh my God, I feel so skeevy right now.”

The horseman chuckled and turned away. 

“Oh! A Frito pie! Yes, I’d very much like one of those, I think.”

Dean groaned again in mental agony, but quickly trotted after the other man.

  


~*~

“So what do you think I should do about Crowley?”

They were wondering through the other venues of the fair, finally having moved away from the food. Even though the horseman was still nibbling on something heavily fried and stuck on a stick. Dean was eyeing a vendor selling some pretty awesome stainless steel rings. He absently rubbed his thumb across the spot where his ring used to rest on his finger. Cas had tried to give it back to him, but he refused it. He liked how it looked on the angel, and it was a claiming of a sorts, in Dean’s mind. 

“Well, if his big play is actually the angel blade, don’t concern yourself. In fact, I would almost suggest you let him stab you with it. The look on his face when it doesn’t work would likely be _priceless_.”

Dean grunted and stepped closer to the ring vendor. There was a heavy band of steel that looked almost identical to his old one and his fingers twitched. 

“But what if you’re wrong and it does work? Then I’m dead and what did that accomplish?”

The horseman snorted delicately, but his eyes tracked Dean’s gaze to the ring. He raised his hand, palm up, and with a tap of his cane the ring appeared in his hand. Dean eyed it suspiciously for a second before turning back to the vendor’s stand. The ring he had been eyeing still rested against the velvet blanket on the table. He arched an eyebrow and Death returned it with a smirk. He closed his fist firmly around the metal and a burst of power and light startled Dean for a brief second. 

When it was done, the horseman opened his hand again and indicated with the arch of an eyebrow that Dean should take the band. Plucking it up quickly, Dean eyed the metal. There was a new etching of words on the inside that hadn’t been present in the original. He squinted to read them. 

“Mors Vincit Omnia. _Death conquers all._ Really? You really just did that?”

The reaper smiled smugly. 

“It can also be translated as _‘Death Always Wins’_. I prefer that one, don’t you?”

Dean huffed a small laugh. 

“So what am I supposed to do with it?”

Death turned and began to walk away. 

“It is a ring. I would presume you were to wear it. Since you seem to be so concerned with Crowley killing you, this is my guarantee to you that he will not. The angel blade cannot kill you to begin with, but since you seem set on ignoring my view on that matter, this will assure that it cannot, even miraculously, do so. I’m putting a brand of protection on your life, Dean. I do hope you appreciate the significance of it.”

The human nodded and eyed the words on the metal for another moment, before he slipped it on his finger. He flexed his hand a couple times and grinned. Didn’t feel so naked without it anymore, and now he and Cas had a matching set. He snorted. _Holy shit he was turning into one cheesy-ass mother fucker._

“I think it’s time we get you home. I’m sure your family is beside themselves with worry.”

They wandered slowly over to the giant cowboy statue that was the mascot of the fair. Big Tex waved at them repetitively from above. Dean arched his wings out behind him and ruffled them as if preparing for flight. Death tossed away his remaining stick from his last snack and leaned forward with both hands resting on his cane. 

“Do you wish to attempt the journey yourself? Or would you like me to do it?”

Dean spread his wings as far as they could go and eyed them with interest. 

“I think I’d like to try myself. Never gonna learn if I can’t do it on my own. Baby steps.”

Death hummed. 

“Indeed. Infant deities. Always entertaining.”

Dean snorted and spread his feet, crouched just a little, as if he planned to jump straight up into the air. The horseman sighed. 

“I shall go first. Just follow the trail I leave and you will see what you need to do.”

Dean nodded in response and closed his eyes to concentrate on the power and presence of the horseman. He felt the spark of energy distribution a second before the other flickered away into the ether. Taking a deep breath, he commanded his wings to follow and launched himself into nothingness. His usual method of transport was to imagine a line of string between where he was and where he wanted to be. It seemed to work well in this situation, too. He just imagined the string tied around the ankle of the horseman. 

After a scant few seconds his world shuddered to a stop and he released the breath he had been holding. When he slowly opened his eyes, Dean found himself standing in the middle of his own living room. Death was perched on his preferred barstool looking as composed as ever. The cabin, though, was still empty of life. 

“Well done, Dean.”

Concentrating on the method Cas had taught him, he managed to release the manifestation of his wings with a sigh. 

“So we’re back, but where is everyone?”

Death made a dismissive motion with his face and glanced at the refrigerator in the kitchen.

“Likely off scouring the world for you.”

Dean released a puff of air before he moved over to open the fridge. There were a couple high-end distillery beers that Sammy preferred on the top shelf, so he snagged them and offered one to the horseman. Death gave a curious little smirk of a smile before nodding his head. Dean flicked the caps into non-existence and handed the bottle over before settling himself down on a stool. The reaper took a swig and made a pleased hum at the taste before speaking again. 

“Call your ducklings home, Dean.”

The ex-hunter rolled his eyes once before doing just that. A short spike of a demanded return, and not even a breath later the living room was filled with people…or three angels, a little brother, and a grouchy old codger to be more precise. Four of the five released sighs of relief, but Cas just stormed up to Dean and smashed their faces together in a desperate kiss. Dean damn near dropped his bottle, but Death apparently plucked it out of his fingers and placed it on the counter top. The weight of Cas’ body was pressing him painfully back into the island but Dean didn’t really care. When his angel got like this Dean just submitted and enjoyed the ride. 

Castiel finally pulled away with a soft sigh and rested his forehead against the human’s. 

“You weren’t anywhere. You were just gone … _again._ ”

Dean grimaced slightly before reaching up to card his fingers through the angel’s perpetual sex hair. 

“Sorry, babe-,”

Balthazar made a gagging sound. 

“-but I wasn’t where… I was _when_. Texas, 1982, to be precise.”

Cas gave him a patented confused head tilt, but Sam stepped up to take the barstool next to Dean’s. 

“You traveled through _time_ , Dean?”

He could only nod at his brother’s questioning gaze. Castiel was so warm and close, and he hadn’t moved away an inch. Dean released a relieved sigh and closed his eyes. 

“Why don’t you tell me what happened from your point of view, and then I’ll fill in the blanks?”

Dean opened his eyes to glance at the horseman, but he was gone. So were both bottles of beer. _Thieving bastard._ In fact, the others hadn’t reacted to seeing the reaper at all. _Huh. Sneaky, too._

Sam shifted on the stool. 

“Cas said you woke up from a nap and wouldn’t respond when he tried to talk to you. You kept muttering about the electricity being out, but it wasn’t. Then you were sneaking around the house trying to be quiet and looking for something. You opened the door to my room and I asked if anything was wrong, but you reacted like I wasn’t even there. We followed you downstairs and Balthazar and Gabe tried to speak to you as well, but you couldn’t hear them either. Then you went outside, made a little ball of light in your hand and promptly freaked the fuck out. You started talking to someone we couldn’t see, then you were just _gone_.”

Gabe stepped forward and slung an arm around Sam’s shoulders. 

“Couldn’t find you anywhere, boss. Never thought to look any _when._ ”

Dean grunted in acknowledgement and Castiel finally stepped back to give him some room. 

“Yeah, okay, so … I woke up from the nap and the house was dark and empty. Everything was off and I couldn’t sense you guys anywhere. I went outside and could barely see, so I conjured up the little sun and found myself surrounded by reapers.”

Sam tensed and Castiel gripped Dean by the wrist. 

“What happened, Dean?”

The elder Winchester shrugged a shoulder and shook his head. 

“I tried to talk to them. Tell them Death wanted them to come home, but it was like they were completely vacant behind the eyes. Then Crowley showed up.”

All three angels bristled and Bobby finally decided to speak up, hunkered down on the barstool Death had previously been residing in.

“That bastard was _here?_ With all of us standing around? And we didn’t see him or sense him?”

Sam snapped his fingers and motioned at Gabriel with his head. 

“Yeah! And shouldn’t the angels have been able to see the reapers?”

Dean shrugged again. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, man. Death said that the reapers could alter my reality to make me see what they wanted me to see. Maybe with all of them together, and Crowley with his hands on the scythe, maybe they could mask it from you somehow. Anyway, Crowley came at me and I just flung myself away. Demanded my power take me to Death, and the next thing I knew I was at the Texas State Fair, thirty-one years ago.”

Sam chewed on his bottom lip. 

“Because the horseman of Death was at the Texas State Fair.”

Dean laughed.

“Of course he was, Sam. Do you _know_ how many fried foods they have at the place?”

Bobby snorted and scratched at his beard absently. 

“So whadja learn, hanging out with your BFF, apocalypse horseman numero uno?”

“Besides the fact that the amount of fried food the man can put away is completely disproportionate to his size? Pretty much that Crowley has more control over the reapers than we’d previously thought, and that the corndogs from 1982 are really fucking delicious. Man, we didn’t know how good we had it before the whole kibosh on using honest-to-God grease was heaped upon us.”

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes in an epic bitchface. 

“We were going crazy trying to find you, and you were eating? For hours?”

Dean smiled apologetically. 

“Sorry, Sammy, but I was kinda stuck there? And I was hungry?”

His younger brother growled something with the potential to be mentally scarring, before he hopped off the barstool and started making his way to the staircase. 

“Well, I’m done for the night. I’m heading to bed.”

Gabriel perked up and bounced along behind him for a second, before Sam turned and practically snarled at the angel. 

“No. You’re not coming.”

The archangel pouted like a kid being pulled out of a candy store as Sam stomped his way up the stairs. Dean grinned. He knew something was going on there. Poor, poor delusional Sammy. His playing so hard to get was practically just chumming the waters for _that_ particular angel. Gabriel turned back to look at Dean and smirked before flickering away. There was a pause of silence for the length of a couple breaths before Sam’s voice screeched from upstairs. 

“GABRIEL!!”

Dean’s snicker was interrupted by a deep yawn. Balthazar had already wandered off to who knows where, and Bobby slapped a hand down on Dean’s shoulder for a good old manly squeeze goodnight. Dean watched the older man walk out of the cabin before turning back to face Cas. There was a Sammy-level of epic bitch-face coming from the angel and Dean swallowed so harshly that his throat clicked. 

“Cas?”

The angel was glaring at Dean’s hand, so the ex-hunter followed his gaze down and … oh. The ring. Right. Castiel crossed his arms over his chest before raising his eyes to meet Dean’s and, rather impressively for a dude still learning to act human, arched a cynical eyebrow. 

“What is that, Dean?”

Dean smiled softly and rubbed across the cool surface of the metal with his thumb. It felt so much better to have something back on his finger again. 

“It’s a ring, Cas. I saw one at the fair that reminded me of the one I gave you. So Death kind of … created one for me. Of course he had to personalize it in a completely ridiculous, not really that funny sort of way. But he’s kind of odd like that.”

Castiel’s scowl deepened. 

“A horseman of the apocalypse … the most notorious horseman of the four … made a ring. For you. And you accepted it?”

Dean blinked. He was obviously missing something here. 

“Well … yeah? I wanted it because it looks just like my old one … and I figured … now we have matching ones? Kinda like …,”

His voice tapered off and he made a nonsensical motion with his hand, unsure of exactly how he wanted to end that sentence. For his part, Castiel had dropped his arms and his eyes were wide with surprise and something else Dean couldn’t quite place. Excitement, maybe? Hope? Dean licked his lips in a bout of sudden nerves. The angel’s gaze locked onto Dean’s mouth and a familiar flutter started up in his belly. He’s pretty sure if he had a tail it would be attempting to wag right off his ass at the moment. Dean traced his lips again slowly and Cas’ eyes went dark with desire. With a wicked grin Dean transported himself up to their room. 

Castiel was right behind him, but when he reached for Dean, the human flickered away from him to the other side of the room. Cas blinked once before he turned to stalk toward him again. Dean pulled his own shirt off over his head quickly, and just when Cas reached out to grab him he flicked away again to the opposite corner of their bedroom. His lover whipped around to glare at him and began to viciously tug his clothes off and toss them towards the hamper. Dean grinned. Cas was always super careful with his clothes, but apparently a little teasing overrode that habit. Dean was tugging off his pants when the angel almost reached him again, and when he flickered away he left them behind. 

“Dean!”

He chuckled as he watched Cas shuck off his pants and briefs in one go. Not surprisingly, the angel’s cock was already half mast and raring to go. Dean licked his bottom lip once before pulling it between his teeth and biting down. Castiel fucking growled as he stalked toward him and Dean shivered in response. He started to pull down his boxer briefs and flick away again, but Cas put on an unnatural burst of speed and gripped him around the waist to slam him up against the wall. Dean gasped and rolled his hips subconsciously. The angel’s mouth immediately latched on to his neck and began to suck and bite down the length of it. 

Dean arched his back and tilted his head up towards the ceiling to give him more access. His arms had wound themselves around Cas’ shoulders, and the angel’s hands left his waist to slide under Dean’s briefs where he grabbed both globes of the human’s ass tightly. Dean made a hungry noise in the back of his throat. No matter how many times they did this together, it never got old or boring or repetitive. In fact, it seemed like the more times they had sex, the more Dean was fucking desperate for it. He groaned as one of Cas’ long fingers trailed down the cleft of his ass and ghosted over his hole. 

“C-Cas…,”

The angel grunted against his neck before moving up to bite softly at Dean’s jaw. That finger was circling and twirling around him now, before it finally pushed against him softly. A firm pressure that was offering so much more. Dean whimpered and rotated his hips to ask for that _more._ With a rustle of feathers he suddenly found himself face down on the bed and sans underwear. Cas’ finger continued to tease at him even as the angel reached over to the bed stand to snag their bottle of lube. Dean spreads his legs so that Cas could settle back between them and shoved his arms under the pillow to grip the bed frame. 

He sucked in a breath when cold lube suddenly dripped down between his cheeks and over Cas’ finger. That single digit took turns spreading the lube around thoroughly and pressing inside of him. Dean could only manage to groan and shake as one finger became two, and then three. He was panting into the pillow when Cas finally pulled them out completely and gripped Dean’s hips to pull him up onto his knees. Dean whined a little _(fuck you, he’d dare you not to do it in the same situation)_ when he could make out the sound of Castiel slicking up his cock. 

As usual, the first push made him tense up a little, but Cas was becoming an old pro at this and immediately began to soothe him with soft little coos of noise and a warm hand rubbing at the small of his back. When he finally felt himself begin to relax, Cas pushed in the rest of the way and Dean couldn’t help but keen at the stretch. The angel bent forward to place a kiss between the blades of his shoulders. He pulled out almost to the tip before thrusting gently back inside. Dean shifted his hips to improve the angle and sighed happily when it did. 

“Dean … I would … I wish…,”

The human turned his head enough to see the flushed face of his lover behind him, soft pants of air escaping them both with every slap of hips. 

“What… what do you want, Cas?”

Castiel groaned and closed his eyes as his fingers dug into the meat of Dean’s thighs. 

“I … your wings. Can I see them?”

Dean smiled softly and patted Cas gently on the side. 

“Pull out and lay down.”

The angel did so almost too eagerly, although he was sure not to hurt Dean when he removed himself. Dean pushed up into a kneel while Cas stretched out in the center of the mattress. With a deep breath, he pulled the power he needed to manifest them, and then his wings burst out behind him, both pairs arching high up towards the ceiling. Castiel gasped with delight and Dean just grinned smugly down at his lover before straddling the angel’s hips and reaching beneath to guide Cas’ cock back inside. 

When his ass settled against Cas’ pelvis and he was fully seated, Dean released a shuddering sigh at the sensation of being filled once more. Castiel pulled his knees up so that he could plant his feet on the bed and Dean hummed happily as he began to swivel his hips in little figure eights. Cas groaned once, harsh and sounding almost pained, before thrusting upwards. Dean’s wings fluttered at the sensation and Cas’ gaze locked on to them. Pulling himself up until the angel’s cock was only barely inside of him, Dean pulled the pair of black wings forward and around his body until he could run the feathers along Castiel’s sides. 

The angel mewled at the contact and then increased his speed to thrust up in earnest. Dean left the wings where they were and cried out at the pace Cas was setting. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Cas!”

Each frantic push would punch a soft grunt straight out of Dean. The room was filled with the mingled sound of slapping flesh, rustling feathers and whispered little _‘ungh, ungh, ungh’_ noises that Dean couldn’t stop if he even wanted to try. Cas was hitting his prostate with about every third drive and Dean’s own dick was damn near purple and leaking like a fountain. He left it alone. He had yet to come completely untouched before, but tonight’s sex was probably good enough to do it and he wanted to try. His balls were already starting to draw up tight. 

One of the black wings stretched up far enough to brush delicately at Castiel’s face and the angel opened his mouth to lick at the feathers. Dean groaned at the sight before closing his eyes and dropping his head backwards. He was getting fucking close to shattering apart into a million pieces. Surging up with his trembling thigh muscles he started to slam himself down to meet each of Cas’ thrusts upwards. The angel cried out in shock, but didn’t slow his pace at all. 

His orgasm caught him a little by surprise. Everything was feeling too much and too good and then his entire body was clenching up and he was rolling forward and coming all over Castiel’s stomach. White was bursting behind his eyelids and he could feel his hole clamping the angel’s cock like a vise. Cas sucked in a breath and gasped it out with Dean’s name upon his lips, then there was the odd little pressure of come being released inside his channel and Dean shivered. 

Cas lost control of his legs and his feet slipped along the sheets until his limbs were splayed out straight on the bed again. Dean remained seated where he was. He knew it would take a couple minutes for the angel’s dick to completely soften, and he was never really eager to lose that fullness inside of him. Cas was panting to catch his breath and running his fingertips up and down Dean’s still twitching thighs. The ex-hunter reached his hands up high over his head for nice long stretch, arching his back and staring up at the ceiling. He flapped both sets of wings a couple times, reveling in the gentle gusts of breeze they created, before stretching them both up and out with a groan. When he glanced back down, Cas was just staring at him in awe. 

“What’s up, Cas?”

The angel smiled softly, eyes trailing over Dean’s face and back towards his wings. 

“You are so beautiful, Dean.”

The human flushed and dropped his gaze to the mess on Cas’ belly. He flicked his wrist and the come vanished. 

“Nah. You’re the pretty one, babe.”

The dick in his ass had finally gone soft, so Dean sighed and slowly pulled himself off. He grimaced a little at the trickle that immediately followed it, but with a small burst of power, that was quickly cleaned up as well. He shifted sideways so he could lay flat on his belly beside his lover. His wings lowered until they were covering them both like blankets and Cas grinned at them warmly. 

“I think you underestimate just how lovely you are, Dean.”

The human snorted and wrapped an arm tightly around Cas’ chest. He tucked his face into the curve of the angel’s neck and kissed the warm skin there. Sleep was coming up fast, so he closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensation of fingers combing through his feathers. He mumbled softly right before he drifted off. 

“Love you, Cas.”

The hands in his wings paused for a brief second. 

“And I love you, Dean. Very much.”

Dean sighed in contentment before he finally drifted off. 

~*~

The complete lack of noise is what woke him this time. When Dean managed to wrench his tired eyes open, it was to be greeted once again by an unnaturally dark room. He flicked his gaze to the alarm clock and it was just a shadowed square shape on the table. 

“Fuck.”

He pulled himself up slowly and cautiously. With a quick glance back over his shoulder he confirmed that if Castiel was in the room, he couldn’t see him. Dean flicked on a pair of jeans and a soft black t-shirt before stepping quietly towards the door to the bedroom. 

“Cas. If you can hear me… it’s happening again.”

Dean concentrated as hard as he could to try and detect some sort of response from the angel, but there was nothing. No sound. No movement. No touch. He had to have faith that Cas was there beside him. 

“Wake the others, if you can hear me, get everyone up and mobilized.”

Stepping as quietly and stealthily as possible, Dean made his way out into the hallway just like last time. However today he didn’t waste time stopping, just move immediately to the spiral staircase and took a deep breath before he began his decent. Same as the previous time, the cabin was washed out in deep shadows and deafening silence. Dean growled under his breath and rolled his shoulders a couple times to loosen up. He jerked his hand out palm up and began to form his tiny sun, the instant feeling of déjà-vu doing nothing but pissing him off at the unoriginality of it all. He tossed the little ball of light up into the air above his head so that he was free to keep his hands clear. 

The ex-hunter shifted from foot to foot for a couple moments, hoping he had given Cas enough time to gather everyone together. Not that he could really tell if they were there at all, he was just hoping like hell that they were. 

“Okay. Okay. Right. Why put it off for any longer, huh?”

He took a deep breath and opened the door slowly to step out onto the porch. There were shuffles of sound all around the yard and he could make out the zombie-like movements of the reapers inching closer and closer to the cabin. Dean sighed and wiggled his fingers nervously. He needed a weapon if the reapers attacked, but he didn’t want to damage them too much, his new corndog buddy might not appreciate that. Finally he conjured up a heavy metal baseball bat into his hand and gripped the handle tight enough to hear the leather strain. He took that final step off the porch so that his feet hit the hard packed dirt of the yard and his toes dug into the earth. 

“Come on, guys. Your big scary daddy misses you and wants you to come home. Promptly, please.”

The reapers all took another step forward and Dean sighed. 

“Well, I tried.”

“Indeed you did, sweat pea.”

Dean could feel his lips pull up in a snarl at the voice coming from the shadows in front of him. Crowley, decked out in his typical solid black suit, stepped into the circle of light created by Dean’s miniature sun. The demon was twirling the angel blade in his hand like a baton and looking smugger than was even usual for him. Dean grunted. 

“What’s the haps, demon-douche? Are we really doing this again? You’ve never seemed the type to repeat yourself.”

Crowley grinned wide and wolfish and he shrugged a shoulder and twirled the blade. 

“True enough. But see … it’s more interesting this time… because _you_ can see me, and _they_ can see me, and they can see _you_ , but you can’t see _them._ It’s all a bit like a game of Marco Polo, but with slightly more bloodshed and mayhem, don’t you think?”

Dean made sure to appear as nonchalant as possible when he shrugged indifferently. 

“Never was big on it. So what’s with the sudden attention, little man? You’d left us alone, we’d left you alone… I figured we had all gotten back to minding our own business. Then you had to kidnap the reapers from the horseman of Death. Which takes some serious balls, might I add. To what? Sit here and have a tea party? Why are you bothering with us?”

The demon clucked his tongue and turned to saunter around Dean in a slow circle. 

“Well, to be quite honest with you, it was getting a little boring down below. All that screaming and maiming and torturing. Nothing but work, work, work for days on end. So when a very reliable source informed me that dear old Daddy was tied up indefinitely with a somewhat _delicate_ situation and that the Heavenly Host was being left unsupervised… I figured, why not? Let’s stir up a little fun.”

“So you stole the scythe from the Grim Reaper? That’s a little bit of _fun_ to you?”

Crowley cackled gleefully. 

“Of course it is! I knew I had to do something a little over the top to impress my dear Moose and Squirrel! Especially now that our precious little Squirrel has leveled up and gained himself his very own Huey, Dewy and Louie angel squad. No mediocre little scheme for my boys, no, no, no. I hope you approve.”

Dean snorted and twirled the bat in his hand a couple times purely for dramatic effect. 

“Not really. So where did you appropriate the angel blade from?”

The demon sighed and twisted his lips into a mocking pout. 

“Sad little creature, really. His vessel was a squeaky voiced teenager working at some sort of wiener hut atrocity. I did him a favor really, I think.”

Something deep inside of Dean’s chest screamed and howled in agony. Crowley was mocking the murder of an angel. An angel that would have someday been under Dean’s protection. Dean’s fold. His flock. He growled deep in his throat and with a burst of light and power, his two sets of wings flared to life from his shoulder blades and spread out wide and threatening. Crowley practically howled with glee. 

“So I wasn’t imagining it last time! Look at you, Squirrel! A budding little wee godling near bursting at the seams to take up the job, eh?”

Dean snarled and took a step towards the demon. 

“Ah, ah, ah … let’s not be hasty, darling. I have you outnumbered and outgunned, remember?”

He wiggled the angel blade in Dean’s direction, but the ex-hunter didn’t even spare it a glance. He took another step forward. 

“Stop being a chicken shit and let me see my friends, Crowley.”

The demon tapped the tip of the blade softly against his own chin and glance up into the sky as if deep in thought. 

“How about … no?”

When the last word was uttered, the twenty or so reapers closest to them suddenly sprang to life and charged at Dean. He cursed under his breath and spun away reflexively. By pure accident alone, one of his white wings smashed into a reaper and it went flying off in the other direction. As the reapers would close in he would strike at them with either a wing or his handy dandy baseball bat and they would be pushed back. He flapped all four wings as hard as he could manage, spilling power into the force of them, and a great gust of wind sent a dozen reapers tumbling away into the dirt. Dean whooped. _Wings. Officially best thing ever._

Crowley was frowning at the display and gripped tightly to the blade in his hand. A reaper snuck up on Dean’s side and was just about to grab hold of an arm, when it was suddenly pushed away with force. Dean strongly suspected Castiel. Somehow his angels were able to see the reapers once again. A quick glance around the yard revealed handfuls of them fighting against invisible foes. He could almost sense Crowley’s displeasure at the turn of the tide. Dean spun on his heel and hollered into the visibly odd battle. 

“All mine! Hit the dirt!”

He dropped the bat and immediately reached both hands high into the air. He gripped his fingers into tight fists and pulled down with as much force as he could muster. Lightening cracked across the sky and lit up the yard. Tendrils of it struck the earth around him, bouncing off cars and punching into as many reapers as he could manage to hit, sending them rocketing away, slightly charred. Dean laughed and turned just in time to catch Crowley lunging at him with the angel blade. 

Every instinct inside of Dean knew, just _knew_ , that Cas was stepping between them to take the hit himself. So Dean used a powerful swipe of one great, white wing and could feel it connect with something warm and tangible just as he felt the slick metal of the blade pierce straight into his gut. He grunted at the impact and looked down to take in the blade up to the hilt fully entrenched in his belly. Dean took one staggered step back before raising his eyes to meet Crowley’s gaze. 

The demon was smirking like the cat that caught the canary. He lifted his free hand to snap his fingers delicately and suddenly the oppressive fake darkness looming over the salvage yard dissipated and the previous silence was filled with the screams of Dean’s name. He glanced to the left and found Castiel sprawled across the ground, still in the heap he must have been in when Dean’s wing knocked him there. The angel’s eyes were wide and rapidly spilling over with tears, his full bottom lip was quivering but it seemed that his voice had temporarily left him. 

Dean flicked a quick glance towards the rest of the yard for the rest of his family. Sam was being held against the skeleton of a car by a massive reaper, screaming his lungs out and trying to reach Dean. Bobby was tucked in the crevice between two wrecks protecting Jodi. The older man’s face was void of color and his shocked gaze was locked onto the blade in Dean’s stomach. Jodi had her hand in front of her mouth and tears were already streaming down her dusty cheeks. Her hair was a mess. Dean wanted to grin at her, but he couldn’t force his lips to move. 

Balthazar had dropped to his knees in the middle of the battle, mouth hung open in shock and his face frozen in a sort of aghast form of horror. _(It was nice to know he cared, really.)_ Gabriel was ripping the reaper away from Sam, but forcing the younger Winchester to stay with him, eyeing Crowley with a wise level of mistrust. Dean’s observations of the group only took mere seconds, but it was long enough for everyone in the clearing to realize that something was off. That Dean wasn’t reacting in the way one should when a sharp metal instrument was currently plunged into their flesh. _(Also the lack of bing bang boom, cue flashy light show and dramatic imprint of wings that usually followed one of these sort of deaths.)_

He slowly turned back to face Crowley, who had tilted his head slightly to the side and was eyeing the blade in his hand with a curious sort of novelty. Dean smirked. 

“Sorry, Hot-n-Bothered … ‘fraid that’s not going to work out so well for you.”

Castiel huffed a stunned breath of relief and Crowley’s grin kicked up a notch. 

“Not to worry, my lovely … I always bring a backup plan.”

The King of Hell’s previously empty hand flicked at his side and Dean only had a second to catch sight of Death’s scythe before the wicked looking hook was plunging into his back, gouging into his spinal column. Dean squeaked in surprise when the white hot pain hit him. He could hear Sammy and Cas screaming but he was concentrating too hard on the scythe sunken deep into his flesh. Crowley was smirking at him and despite the pain and horror of the possibility that this might be a really, really bad thing, Dean could only think about the blade and Death’s need to have it returned to him. 

He ground his teeth harshly together, ignored the agony, ignored the battle erupting to life once again around him and reached back to grasp the handle of the scythe. With a swift turn he dislodged the demon’s hand from the weapon and simultaneously the angel blade slid out from his belly with a wet, squelching sound. Crowley was still grinning like a madman when Dean staggered back a couple paces. His wings flickered and disappeared with the sudden drop of power. 

“Oh dear, you don’t look so good little godling. Perhaps you weren’t expecting my surprise?”

Dean snarled and yanked the scythe from his back in a swift painful motion. Instantly his legs went out from underneath him and he crashed to his knees on the hard packed dirt. Crowley was still smiling maniacally and opened his mouth to probably spew some more taunting bullshit, when Cas slammed into him and they went rolling on the ground. The demon’s hold on the angel blade loosened and Dean reached out with his power to knock the stolen weapon right out of the King of Hell’s hand. It skittered across the earth until it knocked against Sam’s boot and the younger Winchester stooped to snap it up even as he was running towards Dean. 

Castiel was howling with anger as he pummeled Crowley’s face with his fists, but Dean was sinking slowly backwards and couldn’t follow the fight as well as he would like. Two warm hands were suddenly gripping his shoulders and he raised his eyes to meet Gabriel’s concerned ones. The archangel had such a serious look on his face that Dean almost didn’t recognize him. 

“You have the scythe. The reapers have stopped listening to Crowley. Call Death. Call Death right now!”

Warm blood was trickling down his back and there was a dull roar in his ears. He tried to sit up a little straighter, but a whimper of pain burst from him before he could bite it back. Sam was suddenly behind him, crowded in close and allowing Dean to use his massive bulk to lean against. Dean smiled at his little brother and attempted to wiggle his eyebrows playfully, but Sam was too busy sniffling and snotting to pay attention. _(Sammy was not an attractive crier.)_

“Call Death, Dean! Now!”

The elder Winchester tried to shrug, but just sunk further into his brother’s chest. Sam’s massive hands were pressing against the wound on Dean’s back, but the pain was kind of numbing out. _This was probably not a good thing, but oh well._

“Don’t know how, Sammy.”

Gabriel snorted an unpleasant noise, but he had dropped to his knees in front of Dean and was holding the human’s face with gentle hands, so Dean figured he was just concerned. _Aw, Gabe likes me. He really, really likes me._ Dean flicked his gaze over to the sounds of the ongoing scuffle and realized Balthazar was assisting Cas in trying to give Crowley the beat down of his annoying life. The demon was snarling and spitting and fighting dirty… but he was also alone against two angels and losing. _Teach the bastard to not be so overconfident with the big guns he brings to battle. Sometimes the small little backup plan is what saves the fucking day._

_Oops, Gabriel was still talking._

“He had to give you some way of calling him! That bastard is always planning ten steps ahead. Think, Dean!”

_OH._

“Th-the ring.”

He pulled up his hand weakly, scythe still held tight in his fingers and eyed the ring Death had given him. He wasn’t really sure how he knew what to do, but when he tapped the metal band against the weapon twice a deep hush of noise fell over the scrap yard. The ominous darkness began creeping back over them like a dense of fog. Balthazar made a frustrated noise and when Dean turned his attention back to the angels, he found that Crowley was gone and Cas surging to his feet to rush over. 

“Dean!”

Cas skid to a stop on his knees and brought one hand up to cup Dean’s face gingerly. The other hand slid around the human’s waist to help Sam put pressure on the gaping wound of Dean’s back. Tears were tracking through the dust on the angel’s cheeks, but before Cas could say any more a deafening clap of thunder startled them all. Bobby swore from a couple feet away and Dean turned to watch in stunned silence as hundreds upon hundreds of reapers began to flicker into life all around them. 

“Dean!”

Oh, now … _that’s_ a familiar voice he hasn’t heard in a long while. Sure enough, Tessa was pushing her way through the swarm of reapers towards them. Dean grinned, but it was weak. He was beginning to feel really fucking tired and sleepy and he was pretty sure he couldn’t feel his legs any more. _Damn._

“Hey, Tess. Fancy meeting you here.”

The reaper shook her head sadly at him before crouching down next to Gabriel and laying a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

“Oh, Dean. Look what you’ve done to yourself.”

The elder Winchester just snorted in response and gave an appropriate _‘eh, whatcha gonnna do’_ motion with his shoulders and face. She smiled softly at him in return before craning her neck to peer behind her. Sure enough, the reapers were parting like the fucking red sea… and Death himself was slowly meandering towards them tapping his cane along the ground as he moved. 

“Well now. This has certainly been an eventful evening, hasn’t it?”

Dean tried to respond, but his final reserve of energy failed him and his head lolled back onto Sam’s tense shoulder. His eyes slipped closed and he fought to open them, but exhaustion had settled over him, heavy as a leaden cape. Death made a _‘tsking’_ sound as he shuffled closer. 

“Come now. It isn’t the time for a catnap.”

Sammy’s chest rumbled beneath Dean as he finally spoke up. 

“Sir, he … Crowley stabbed him in the back with the scythe. He’s… he’s dying.”

The younger Winchester’s voice cracked over the last couple words and Dean would’ve loved to give him a reassuring pat of bro-love, but the world was starting to sort of slip away around him and Cas was repeatedly patting his cheek and begging him to open his eyes. 

“Let’s not be so dramatic, shall we?”

 _The horseman really was kind of an asshole, but Dean sorta of liked him anyway._

Sam sucked in a sharp breath at the same time Dean felt a cold hand slowly remove the scythe from his grasp. 

“I am very grateful to you, Dean, for retrieving this for me. I apologize for the unwitting assistance my children provided to that bumbling buffoon’s meddling with your family.” 

Those icy fingers were back meddling with Dean’s hand, and he was just about to drift off into the dark nothingness when they clutched at the ring on his finger and a burst of power spread sharply and quickly through his nerves. Dean’s eyes flew open in shock and he gasped as he felt the wounds in his back and belly carefully knit themselves closed. 

“I gave my word to you that you would not die during this frivolous escapade, and I do always keep my word, Dean. Death does not give false assurances.”

A hush had fallen over the yard and Dean closed his eyes tightly once more to pull energy from the world around him. He sucked it straight into his body from the ground, the air, the people he loved standing so close beside him. After a moment he felt so light that his body began to lift up without any instruction or assistance on his part. He felt his wings reappear and arch straight up into the sky as he took a deep, calming breath. Dean felt good. He felt great. Amazing even. Powerful enough to raze a mountain range into dust and dance in the ensuing cloud of debris. 

“There now. Are we feeling better?”

When the elder Winchester opened his eyes once more to the world, the horseman of Death was standing before him with a somewhat smug tilt of a smile on his lips. Dean returned it with a smirk of his own before he flicked his wrist and conjured a corndog from the fair into his palm. He offered it to the reaper. 

“Repayment for the favor.”

Death grinned with delight before snapping the fried treat straight out of Dean’s fingers and promptly beginning to nibble. Dean could only smile as he turned to take in the state of the yard surrounding them. The reapers were slowly beginning to disappear, one by one, without so much as a howdy-do, but Dean supposed there was a backlog of death that had been put on hold for the crisis of the week. Tessa was still standing sentinel beside the horseman with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. 

“So I’m assuming you’ve re-established your control and are ushering your little soldiers back to where they belong?”

Death tipped his head in response to Dean’s words as he finished up the breaded meat on a stick and flicked the remaining trash into nothingness. 

“Indeed. We shall be making plans to keep this from happening again.”

“Do you know what’s going on with God? I haven’t been able to contact him, and Crowley was making allusions to there being something big on the horizon. Some sort of delicate issue that was taking up Chuck’s full concentration.”

The horseman made a thoughtful noise before turning his gaze to the sky.

“I have not heard anything, but I shall let you know if I do. Until then, we must be going. There is much that must be set right now that the little rat has been sent back to pout in his hidey-hole.”

With a tap of his cane, Death and Tessa vanished in a flurry of motion and the oppressive shadows faded from the salvage yard, leaving a bright moonlit sky to wash out everything in muted blues and grays. Dean glanced around for his little sun, but apparently it had been snuffed out like he almost had been. When he swiveled around to the group of people waiting for him, he only had a second to gasp before Castiel was kissing him delicately on the lips. When the angel pulled back his eyes were clear of worry for the first time in days and his mouth had a soft tilt of a smile daring to break through. 

“I would greatly appreciate having a boring week every now and then, Dean.”

Dean cackled as he wrapped his arms tightly around Castiel’s neck and hugged him close. 

“Nah, babe, come on … where’s the fun in that?”

The angel only snorted and stepped out of Dean’s arms as Sam came up to hug his elder brother as well. 

“You feeling okay?”

Dean nodded. 

“Peachy. All boo-boos officially gone and the residual pain barely warrants a flinch.”

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes in exasperation. 

“We still have no idea what’s going on with Chuck, though, and I don’t like it.”

Gabriel stepped forward and snagged one of Sam’s belt loops with his finger. 

“Don’t worry, sugarcakes … we’ll figure it out soon enough, and we’ll deal with it like we always do. Like the badasses we are.”

Sam groaned and turned to start walking back towards the cabin, Gabriel dutifully following close on his heels.

“Don’t call me sugarcakes.”

“No problem, honeybear.”

“Not that either.”

“You betcha, prime rib.”

“Gabriel.”

“Yes, my sparkly moose of affection and sexy times?”

“Oh my God! Stop!”

The two finally made it up the porch and into the house, thankfully taking their conversation with them. Bobby grunted in relief before reaching over to hug Dean tightly and pat him a couple times on the back. Dean’s wings trembled with the desire to wrap around the older man and hold him close, but Bobby was already stepping away to gather Jodi to him and stumble tiredly back to their end of the yard. Balthazar had already fucked off to do whatever he needed to do in order to go back to pretending he didn’t give a shit about any of them. 

_Not to worry… Dean would harass him later. He’d seen the tears threatening to spill over in the snarky bastard’s eyes. There would be no escape for him. (Cue Dean’s maniacal laughter … internally, of course.)_

Cas stepped up to him again and Dean smiled. He pulled the angel into a tight embrace and enveloped them both under a canopy of his wings. Cas tucked his face into the curve of Dean’s neck and the tension poured off of his shoulders like a waterfall. 

“Sorry if I scared you again, Cas. I guess I do that a lot, huh?”

The angel hummed and kissed at the hinge of Dean’s jaw. 

“I have come to accept it as an inevitability. You are very important to the future of the world, Dean, and creatures like Crowley will never ease up on you. It will never be easy for us, and as much as I wish that you could just be the center of _my_ world not _the_ world’s, I cannot be that selfish. You are amazing and beautiful and perfect, and I would not change a thing that has happened to us.”

Dean chewed on his bottom lip for a moment as he ran his hands up and down his angel’s back. 

“I love you, Cas, you know. A whole hell of a lot. And I’m sorry that I sometimes do the wrong thing, or say the wrong thing, but I’m still learning all this relationship shit, too. And I’m not perfect. I will _never_ be perfect. I’m always gonna fuck things up and have to beg you to forgive me, but I’ll never give up on us and I’ll never stop believing in you. So just … keeping sticking with me, and I’ll love you for the rest of eternity, okay?”

Castiel grinned against the skin of Dean’s neck. 

“I’m pretty sure that won’t be a problem, Dean.”

Dean kissed the angel on the temple before pulling his wings back and storing them away for now. 

“Come on, I think I’m going to sleep for about thirty years right now, and then in the morning I’m going to annoy the ever loving shit out of Sam and threaten Gabe with castration. Then we’ll see about finding a way to help Chuck with whatever he needs.”

He took Castiel’s hand and threaded their fingers together as they began to walk towards the cabin. Cas sighed deeply as he wiggled his fingers to rub absently at the ring on Dean’s finger. The one that matched his own. 

“I think I like this plan.”

~*~ THE END ~*~

**Author's Note:**

> I haz Tumblr!!! Come say hi! :) [HERE](http://bunnymaccool.tumblr.com/)


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